The Fox and the Alpha
by InTheArmsofaTheif
Summary: -One Shot- AU fox!Stiles. very loosely based off 'The Fox and the Hound' but basically inspired by my tumblr friend's new url.


**Written for formerly known as slashsexual. I was inspired by her new name: thefoxandthealpha.**

**ALSO: UNBETAED: if you want to read this without all the typos, check me out on A03 (under the same username) where it is much easier to fix things. :) **

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The sound of gunshots always sent Stiles into a panic. He hadn't seen hunters, but he knew they were nearby thanks to the loud bang. Stiles skirted backwards, paying careful attention not to trip over his tail. He wasn't successful. To be fair, it wasn't everyday he was running for his life. Even rarer was this moment when a _wolf _jumped into his path. That definitely had never happened before. His heart was beating out of his chest and he crouched as close to the ground as possible, eyes darting to find some way out of this.

The wolf started growling and was answered with a similar sound. Stiles looked past the wolf's dark haunches to see- "Scott?" Stiles asked squeaked, his head lifting a bit to get a better look.

The hound on the other side of the wolf stopped mid snarl and locked eyes with Stiles. "Stiles?" the hound, Scott, his bestest friend ever even though he hadn't seen him in forever, questioned, his face contorting to a mix of excitement of worry. "Stiles you have to get out of here," he whined. "Allison's aunt!"

Really, that's all Scott needed to say to Stiles. Scott was really Allison's dog but her dad often used him for hunting, but when her Aunt Kate went on hunting trips with them, well… Kate was scary. Another gun shot rang and Stiles dashed, needing to dart between the wolfs legs to get by. He heard Scott yell that he'd lead them the opposite direction, his voice already fading by distance. The patter of feet behind him must have been the wolf's and sure enough, when Stiles checked, there he was, breathing down Stiles's white tipped tail as if he were chasing a rabbit instead of a fox.

Barking was closing in on them from the left as well as the yelling of people. He heard Chris, specifically, which Stiles was grateful for, because that meant Kate was following Scott way away from them. Unfortunately, that meant Chris was on their trail. Also, Daehler. The grey Irish Wolfhound that Chris liked favored was a few years past retirement age, but he was still fast. Out of nowhere, Daehler, who Scott referred to as Matt, bounded into their path, barking wildly, spit flying from his mouth.

"Oh I finally got you know, Stiles," the old dog growled, but Stiles was soon pushed aside by the wolf whose growl seemed more like a roar. Stiles was in awe as Matt hunched his shoulders in with fear. It wasn't enough to knock him away completely, but it was enough to give him pause.

"This way," Stiles yipped, nipping quickly at the wolf's tale before darting away. Stiles only turned once to make sure the wolf was following.

To better shake the hound, Stiles took a sharp bend when he heard the other canine skid to a halt. He turned to see the wolf wearily pawing at the path before him and Stiles caught sight of the fallen branch of rowen he had jumped over. Stiles backed up, eyes wide, staring at the black wolf, all thought of hunters gone from his mind. "You're not a wolf," he said, sniffing the air as if to place his scent as not-wolf versus normal wolf. There wasn't really a difference.

The not-wolf whined. Stiles noticed how his fur was bristled and neck and jaw were tense before remembering the hunters. The way the wolf's pale blue eyes stared at him, flicking to different directions periodically, told Stiles the stranger hadn't forgotten anything, but he sure as hell didn't know these woods. He didn't smell familiar and he would have darted off somewhere else if he had a den of his own. And the hunters were probably after _him_, not Stiles. Not this time.

Stiles bit his tongue, thinking. It made sense. When lost in the woods follow someone who knows where they're going. It was what Stiles had done, after all. He wasn't sure if the not-wolf could understand him, but he still squeaked out a "Don't hurt me," before nosing the branch out of the way. The black wolf let his hackles down a bit and took a few steps to Stiles, just as nervous about Stiles as Stiles was about him. Before he could get too close, Stiles darted away again, expecting the wolf to follow.

He led them in circles for a while, hoping to trip up Matt and not lead him to his den. Soon enough Stiles was burrowing his way through a dense patch of bushes that lead to his den. It was a bit of a squeeze for the not-wolf, but he made it through, sniffing around the cave walls and then giving Stiles a look like this was tolerable. Stiles huffed in annoyance. Of course his cave was tolerable. He had found it years ago and it was the best place because the entrances were hidden and the one on the far side was actually not far away from the Argents so that he and Scott often played, but you could only get through if you were Stiles sized.

Stiles tried not to think about where Lydia and Jackson were. They were searching for a new den tonight because Stiles's was big enough for three foxes, but not for three foxes and a litter. He just hoped they found somewhere safe before the Argents invaded the area. If not… he didn't want to think about it.

Stiles looked back at the not-wolf and yelped, placing his paws over his eyes. The not-wolf had changed, like Stiles had expected, and was now a human. Stiles took a few calming breaths and lowered his paws so he could keep an eye on the man as he stretched in the dull, refracted light of the cave.

The man looked over at Stiles and gave a sad smile. The ceiling was too low for the man to stand, but he could sit up comfortably. He reached a paw hand out to Stiles. Stiles huffed again. The man didn't smell any different, he knew who he was. He was the not-wolf.

"You knew," he said in hushed wonder.

Stiles rolled his head in exasperation because, duh. _Humans_, he thought. Stiles actually didn't mind humans. Allison was a sweetheart who made sure Stiles scampered away before her father found him playing with Scott, which hadn't happened in some time though. Not since his man had to drop him off in the preserve where there wasn't _supposed_ to be hunting, although the gunshots would make you believe otherwise.

Stiles never knew his father, and his mother died when he was very young, shot by hunters. He was lucky enough to have been taken in by a tired man who always wore a hat and a shiny brass star on his shirt who was neighbors with the Argents. That was how he met Scott when they were both still pups, but John just couldn't keep Stiles safe, not when Kate had found out about him. He figured reintroducing him in the preserve was the best option.

The man-wolf crawled over, bit by bit, not wanting to scare Stiles off, until his outstretched hand was right in front of Stiles's nose. So, Stiles licked it. The man pet Stiles. "Thanks for sharing your den with me. I know that's not easy to do for strangers."

Stiles squirmed and wanted to whine. The man's tone had spoken volumes of past experience. But the steady pace of the man's hand petting his back soon had him lulled into a sleep. Stiles woke sometime later with the not-wolf in his wolf form curled around him. Stiles squirmed closer and closed his eyes. When Stiles woke again the warmth of the not-wolf was gone, replaced by the warmth of the man, and voices filtered through his fox-only entrance.

"Derek, we can smell you, we can't find an entrance."

The man sat up, grumbling and rubbing his eyes. "There's one on the other side," he told whoever it was, "but you won't be able to make it through. Animals only."

There was a huff of annoyance from the other voice. "So unfair that we can't fully shift."

"Cora," he said, the name a warning as much as a fond grievance. "Just go get Laura. I'll be out in a minute."

"Still can't believe you just took off on your first full moon as an alpha. Mom should have given it to Laura."

Derek rolled his eyes, crawling to the way he entered. "Laura didn't want it, and Mom wanted to retire, and you're still in high school. Shut up." Then Stiles watched as the bare, pale haunches of the man shifted into the dark, fury haunches of the wolf. He yipped in surprise and followed the not-wolf out. A girl with a similar face to the man's rounded the bend only a few moments later. Derek shifted again and the girl squeezed her eyes tight, making a face of disgust and holding her hands out as if to shield herself further. "Ew, gross. I do _NOT_ want to see that."

"I told you to get Laura," he said annoyed.

Cora dropped her hands and crossed her arms, still keeping her eyes firmly shut. "Kate's not far from here. That psycho-bitch of yours might still show up."

"I regret ever knowing her," he said, frustrated. Stiles whined again. It sounded like Kate was hunting Derek _knowing_ he was a not-wolf. Then he whined further. Maybe _because_ he was a not-wolf. Stiles didn't like that.

"Who's your friend?" Cora asked.

Derek shrugged, even though his sister (Stiles was assuming because they had a similar scent to them) was vehemently not looking his way. "He let me stay in his den."

Cora's eyes snapped open, turning to Derek with a very purposeful hand to keep parts of him covered from her sight. "I know that voice."

"What?"

Cora dropped her mouth and furrowed her brow in a face of shock and amusement. "That's your 'can we keep it' voice. You used it when asking for Baxter, when your fourth-grade class pet stayed with us for the weekend and you wanted to be the one to take care of the lizard for the summer, when you see gold-fish at carnival games, and when you met my boyfriend you stalked him like a creep but found out his dad was being abusive and asked mom if we could _turn Isaac_! And _now _you want a fox." She threw her head back and laughed. "You're too much, Der."

Derek just shrugged helplessly, looking down at Stiles with a constipated frown. "He's smart. I'm pretty sure he knew I wasn't really a wolf before I changed in front of him."

"What, really?" Cora said, looking at Stiles with new interest. Stiles just quirked his head at the girl, then spun around at the noise of someone approach. Another girl, taller and older than Cora but with similar features, similar scent, climbed over the top of his cave and chucked a hunk of fabric at Derek.

"Thank god," Cora mumbled as Derek pulled up a pair of pants. "Also, Derek want's a pet fox."

Derek's eyes flashed red in annoyance at his sister and Stiles darted away. He was not expecting _that_. It probably shouldn't have spooked him as much as it did, but there was a power behind the red eyes.

"So I heard," the older girl said with amusement.

It was sometime later after a lot of coaxing with cookies that Stiles found himself on the cold metal slab of a table with a familiar man's hand holding him down. "I see you found Stiles," the vet said. Stiles wasn't sure if he liked this man. Deaton was calm and nice and sometimes gave him treats when he was still living with John, but he also did things like poke him with sharp needles and wrap his legs so he couldn't walk, or that one time with the cone.

"Stiles?"

Deaton hummed. "This was the former Sheriff's fox until he let him loose in the preserves. Kate kept making official complaints when she was in town and he couldn't keep him under the pressure of the community." Deaton petted Stiles lightly and he leaned into the touch.

"But… Stiles?"

Deaton smiled, which was a rare sight. "John found him stuck between his fence posts when he was a baby. And since John's last name was Stilinski, it seemed fitting." Derek made a sound but Stiles wasn't sure what it meant. The vet continued simply. "He seems healthy and I can easily get up to code on his shots. I know John would rather he be in a good home than the woods all alone." He sighed and then looked at Derek pointedly. "Although, I should warn you, Stiles is as much of a fox as you are a wolf."

"_What?_" Derek asked.

"What!?" "_WHAT!_" came from his two sisters sitting in the waiting room. "I know you said you thought he was smart," Cora said, stumbling into the back room, "but _what_?"

"Stiles is cursed, I can feel it off him, have since I first met him, but I'm pretty sure he's been a fox since he can remember. He was only a few weeks old when the Sheriff brought him in. I'm positive about it now, though. Foxes live only 3-4 years on the wild, maybe 6 in captivity. He lived ten years with John and it's been seven since I last seen him. Scott, the Argent's dog, is an old boy at ten, and Stiles is easily seventeen."

"Who would curse a baby?" Laura asked, mortified.

"How do you know it's the same fox?" Derek asked.

Deaton lifted Stiles's tail, which Stiles tried and failed to yank away. "He has distinct markings on the underside of his tail and he has the constellation Phoenix as black spots up his front right arm and his chest." He rolled Stiles over to show them all the speckles of black fur. "Also, I put a dog tag chip in him when he was three months old and it's still there."

"I'm texting this to mom," Cora said, already through sending the first series of texts.

"How do we fix this?" Laura asked Deaton before turning to Cora. "Also send it to Peter."

Stiles got frustrated being under Deaton's grip and squirmed his way out from under him. He shook himself a little as he pranced over to Derek, his claws clanking against the metal table. Derek raised his hand up and scratched behind Stiles's ear, which Stiles happily leaned into. It was confusing being around these not-wolfs and the vet. He could _mostly_ understand them, but it was hard to pay attention and he wasn't entirely sure what was going on. He missed his den. He missed his John. He missed Lydia. He missed Scott. He even kind of a little bit missed Jackson.

Stiles pulled away and curled up by himself on the corner of the table. He didn't want to get attached to Derek or the others and just have to get taken away from them all again.

"Really? That's it?" Laura asked in angered disbelief. "That's all you have for us?"

Deaton shrugged apologetically. "If I knew how to fix him I would have done so ages ago."

"We're taking him home," Laura said definitively.

"Don't you think that's my call?" Derek asked, giving his sister a look.

Laura huffed and rolled her eyes. "Please, like you were going to say no."

Derek conceded (silently). She was right.

Stiles suffered through another car ride, although it wasn't so bad. He sat nestled in Derek's lap while the man pet slow strokes down his back. He then found himself in a large house a few towns over where more not-wolves were gathered, all smelling of sameness that said family, the way Allison and Kate and Chris all smelled similar. He noticed there were a few people who weren't not-wolves but just humans.

They set him up a pile of blankets to sleep on in the corner of one of the rooms and gave him some food and everyone pet him and a lot of them gave him worried looks and read a lot in the same manner his John had when working. When Stiles finally went to his pile of blankets for the night, Derek entered the room and laid on the bed occupying it. They looked at each other for a bit, eyes locked in silent communication.

The room didn't really smell like Derek, not the way John's scent had penetrated his most used spaces. But, Derek was staying there for the night, for Stiles. Stiles eventually closed his eyes. He was okay with that.

When Stiles woke up everything felt… weird. "Holy fuck, it worked," what sounded like Peter's voice said. Stiles blinked at the sound and stretched, and then caught sight of an arm that wasn't his. He tried to skirt back from it, but it followed him. He stumbled over his the legs that chased him as he _used_ them to push himself back. A strangled cry came out of him mouth that was nothing like the sounds he'd been making his whole life. Stiles screamed again at the sound of his own _human_ voice, cowering in the corner and tangled in the blankets he had fallen asleep on.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." That was Laura, watching him in wonder. Stiles's eyes darted from person to person, then back to his own hands, slapping his face, feeling the change of his nose and lips and suddenly he couldn't breathe. His sight began to blur and his head was light and he couldn't _breathe_. Strong hands wrapped around him and a warm torso pressed against his, taking in slow, rhythmic breaths. A deep voice, softer than he had remembered, whispered in his ear, "breath with me."

When Stiles's breathing and heart rate was back under control, Derek pulled back and placed his hands on either side of his face. They looked at each other for a long minute before Derek gulped dryly and he stood, sniggering coming from his sisters. "I think some of Peter's clothes will fit him."

Over the next few hours Stiles had everything explained to him. He desperately wanted to ask questions, but couldn't quite figure out how to make words as a human. He could understand just fine now that he wasn't a fox, but he just wasn't used to this. Peter's clothes fit him well enough for now but Stiles stumbled over his own feet, not used to his new body. Cora asked why Stiles kept rubbing his nose the way he did, and Stiles would have answered he didn't like having lost his most of his ability to smell, but again, words. Instead he just sniffed the air then bopped her nose and then pointed to one of the humans of the family. She seemed to understand him well enough.

Over the next few days, Stiles got the hang of words and eventually rarely shut up, much to the amusement of Cora and the annoyance of her boyfriend, Isaac. Over the next few weeks, Stiles got the hang of having a human body, although he was still likely to trip over himself rather frequently. By the end of his first month living with the Hales (and almost never seeing Derek), he asked about John and Scott and if he would ever get to see them again, or if he could go back to the woods and see if he could find Lydia and meet her babies because they _had _to have survived. Lydia was too smart to get shot.

"We can definitely go back and help you find your fox friends, but we don't have the best relationship with the Argents," Talia said solemnly.

Laura snorted. "Yeah, wanting to kill us could be improved upon."

"But we'll see about it. And John," she trailed off and her eyes got a bit watery and Stiles didn't like that. "John passed away last year, sweetheart. He had a heart-attack."

Just like that, Stiles was crying, sobbing, tears blurring his sight, snot clogging his nose. His wailing was that of a child, which was to be expected. His legs gave out under him, but Laura caught his fall and set him up to lean against the counter as he continued to blubber. He heard hurried footsteps and panicked exclamations but he didn't even try to listen to hear what might have been said around him. His John was gone.

His name, though, came through eventually. A soft "Stiles," of that voice he hadn't heard since it calmed him down from a panic attack. He then noticed the warm hand on his cheek and the not-wolf's forehead pressed against his.

"Shh," he whispered, "it's okay. It's okay." He soothed Stiles until Stiles had no more tears left. Derek carried Stiles to bed, the one Derek had slept in that first night when he was still a fox and where Stiles had slept every subsequent night. Stiles was drifting off to sleep when he felt Derek's warmth leave.

"Don't," he said, his voice raw. Derek hovered and Stiles could feel the uncertainty coming off the man. "Please," he pleaded, holding out his hand.

Derek took it and crawled onto the bed, letting Stiles pull his arm over the boy's body. They were both still clothed and it was hours until sunset, but they slept easily. When Stiles woke up, feeling empty and lost, Derek was still there, wrapped around him. It made things better. His heart picked up, and Derek turned Stiles over, his eyes asking all the questions.

"Thanks," Stiles croaked. Derek nodded and before he could come up with some excuse to leave he gripped the man-wolf's (_werewolf_, he reminded himself,_ they're called werewolves_) wrist. "Why have you been avoiding me? You liked me when I was a fox." He nuzzled the top of his head into Derek's chest, unable to look at the man's almost scared expression and also wanting the contact. "I would have stayed a fox. Then I wouldn't have to be sad with_ knowing _and you would still be my friend."

Derek made a strangled sound and pulled away. When Stiles looked up, feeling upset again (but not quite as bad. He didn't suppose he'd ever feel quite as bad as being told his John was gone) Derek had a strained expression on his face and his ears were a similar shade to Stiles's old coat.

"What?" he asked, because it was obvious Derek was holding something back.

The man deflated a little. "It's not that I don't like you, Stiles." Derek looked away, scooting to the edge of the bed so that his feet hit the floor. "It's quite the opposite."

"Huh?" Stiles watched Derek close his eyes and breathe in deeply. The redness to his ears seeped down his neck. Derek swallowed dryly like he had the first time he looked Stiles in the eyes. "Oh. _Oh_… oh?"

Derek turned his head back to Stiles, his eyes not quite reaching him. Stiles noted how they trailed over his (clothed) chest and his neck and his right arm. "When whatever concoction Peter put together worked and you woke up, I couldn't stop staring," the man admitted. "The spot pattern Deaton showed us, you have moles to match," he told Stiles. His voice sounded distant, as if he were trying to restrain myself by making the situation something on TV or something (Stiles was really liking TV… not the point).

"You should see the one on my butt," Stiles said. He has spent hours in front of a mirror, just_ staring_, looking at everything after he turned. Derek made a choked off whine. "You… _want_ to see my butt? I've seen your butt." It was true, he had. He was still a fox, but he'd seen Derek's butt. "I've seen both your butts. Wolf and man."

"Stop saying _butt_," Derek snapped, but there was a hint of laughter behind it.

"Is that a yes?"

Derek locked eyes with Stiles. "Stiles you-," he wiped his hand over his face. "You're seventeen. You only just got a human body. There's a whole world out there for you. You need to learn and get a GED and maybe even go to college. I can't expect- I can't ask anything of you."

Stiles frowned and got off the bed. The sun was just beginning to set but it was plenty light in the room. He rounded the corner of the mattress to stand in front of Derek. "So you've been avoiding me because you like me?" Derek tried looking away, but Stiles placed his hands on his cheek in role reversal from their first both human interaction. "You like me?"

Derek breathed in deep again. "Yeah." But then he shook his head. "It's not the same, Stiles. I have all these _instincts _as a werewolf and they're so much stronger now that I'm the alpha and one of them is telling me that-, but I can't ask that of you. So I can't do anything with you."

Stiles shook his head, pouting. "I spent seventeen years as a fox, Derek. My instincts are more in tune with yours than a normal humans." Stiles liked the confused furrow of Derek's eyebrows as he processed what Stiles was trying to tell him. "They're telling me I should have found a mate and had some babies years ago. My instincts aren't to go to college. They're about family. Also," Stiles continued, his face splitting into a wicked smirk, "Isaac showed me some websites when I asked what something on TV was referencing."

The confused eyebrows grew even more knitted so Stiles pressed his thumb against the point they hit each other. Derek's face began to relax. It was more magic than seeing him transform into a wolf. "What are yo-," Derek began, but Stiles always had been a quick fox.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against Derek's savoring the taste and texture. This was something he never would have been able to do with another fox. When Derek began to move his lips in response, Stiles's heart kicked up. _Yes_, he thought, _this is much better_. Derek's hands wound their way up his back and pulled him close between his legs. They broke the kiss only due to Stiles's giggles.

"You always smelled right," he told Derek. "When I realized what you were, it was scary because I had seen your kind before and they had not been nice. But you smelled right. And really, that's why I moved the branch. Besides," Stiles leaned in a pressed a chaste kiss on Derek's mouth, reveling in the stunned expression on the man's face. He then nosed his way over the stubble of his jaw as if he could still scent the werewolf. Stiles smirked as he felt Derek's hands tense briefly around Stiles's waist when his breath hit the alpha's ear. "I want to try _everything_ I saw in those videos with you, and that would be hard if you keep avoiding me."

A low growl rumbled in Derek's chest and suddenly Stiles found himself on his back, staring up at Derek's flashing red eyes. He marveled in the way Derek's face flushed completely red and not just his ears. _I did that_, Stiles thought, preening a little under Derek's intense gaze.

"Not now," Derek said, sounding breathless, "not yet. But,_ god_ yes." Then he dove back down for another kiss which Stiles laughed through, even as he snaked his arms over Derek's shoulder and pulled him in closer.

A few days later Stiles makes is way back to his den and finds Lydia surrounded by a pile of baby foxes and an overprotective Jackson. "She's still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he told Jackson pointedly, "but as you can see I am with my own mate and I am not actually a fox."

Jackson continued to growl. Lydia almost comically rolled her eyes and trudged over, leaving her litter for Jackson to cuddle with. She looked him in the eye and Stiles smiled back, unsure how to actually communicate with the fox. Sure, he had understood humans, but he technically _was _a human all that time. Eventually Lydia sniffed his hand and licked it and then nipped his finger and crawled back inside. He couldn't follow, the entrance was barely large enough for Derek to squeeze through as a wolf. Stiles was happy, he had found a good den for them after all.

The next day Isaac brought Stiles to school with him, introducing him as "my weird cousin from Utah who's been homeschooled all his life," where he met Isaac's friends Erica and Boyd and later that day met Allison for the first time as a real person.

She kept giving him inquisitive glances, like something about him seemed familiar but she couldn't pin it down. They got to talking, Stiles leading her to bring up her dogs and Stiles saying how much he missed his own that his family had back in Utah and her inviting him over after school. He said he had to check with Isaac, and she invited him along too and soon enough the three of them were on the in the Argent's back yard. Scott was sitting on Stiles' chest, licking his face like he'd never met another living being before and this one was _awesome_. Stiles laughed. "Yeah, buddy, love you too."

Matt had been locked inside because he was growling at the guests.

Stiles looked over the fence to what he could see of his John's house. There was laughter of children coming from there, obviously some new family that didn't know anything about Stiles. He tried not to think about it.

"Well, Stiles, Isaac, you're welcome to come by anytime. Scott seems to be in love with you both." It was true. Once he was over his excitement at seeing his bestest friend forever, he had made close friends with Isaac.

Then the boys went back to the Hale house where they both were living although neither of them were Hales. Stiles was okay with that. None of his family had ever been his, not really. But they were still family.

Peter was waiting inside. He handed a book to Stiles. "I think I knew your mother," he told him.

Stiles looked shocked, flipping through the book and picking up what few words he could read. "It was a journal of a friend. Alice. Although she never knew Deaton, they had a lot in common. I don't think it was a curse, I think it was a spell she did that went wrong, which is why Deaton never figured it out." Peter led Stiles to the couch so he could sit. Isaac trailed behind, interested and concerned. When Stiles was seated, Peter continued. About eighteen years ago Alice got pregnant. I don't know who the father was. She was planning on keeping it, keeping you, but she also worked as a witch. I found her journal years ago. She kept detailed entries of all her spells. I researched the one she was hired to do last extensively because she just… disappeared."

Stiles felt like he was going to cry again.

"It's how I knew how to fix you so quickly. I had hoped that you might be Alice's son. The spell went wrong _because _she was pregnant and I found the right counter herbs, nothing too complex. And it worked."

There was silence for quite some time. Stiles didn't look at anybody, merely held the journal to his chest and tried not to cry. Eventually hands that he was quickly beginning to be familiarized with were placed on his shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles into his spine.

She was shot," Stiles told them, told no one, just said out loud. Derek pressed his lips against his temple and Stiles leaned into his heat and weight, letting Derek wrap his arms around him. "Thank you," Stiles finally said.

"For what?"

"Being my family." He tilted his head back so he could look into Derek's pale blue eyes.

"Come one," Derek said with a kiss to Stiles's forehead. "Let's grab some food and go to bed."

Stiles grinned. "You know just what to say to a guy, don't you."


End file.
